moments

Moments: Eyes Open

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I’m laughing this time. Moving to the ebb and flow of each syncopated beat. Saturating my body with every single juicy bass bound whirl. I’m absolutely loving it.

I told you, I was laughing. A grin teasing away at each residual bit of baby fat still clinging on for the youthful justice on my cheeks. The muscles of my mouth would only rest on a smile, no bit small but restful nonetheless.

Grinning. Smiling. Laughing.

I can see my best friend. Cozy near the small bar of the club, talking to a bouncer. About what? I don’t know. But she was smiling. And that’s all I needed to see.

That’s all I needed to see before closing my eyes once again. Mimicking each wave of the music with my spine. Colours are tracking my body with their eyes, I follow along its tantalising tale.

I open my eyes once more and this time she’s smiling at me. I smile back. A genuine exchange of happiness.

Can my eyes return there? Never again.

Because I told you, didn’t I?

I was whisked away.

I was whisked away.

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moments

Moments: Stumbling Memories

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The nights were quiet. Wild.

I would hold onto my friends arm, eyes unfocused, intoxicated on the latest chemical, stumbling still into the arms of a wall. Slip down and enjoy the sensation of its cold kiss.

I wouldn’t be quite sure where I was going, what I was doing but the serene calamity of it all would wobble my consciousness into a gasping breath. I could stay there forever like that. The pulsing flash and bang of the dingy, dirty club shaking pores loose of sweat. Above me each dripped droplets piercingly onto my flesh, vibrating where it touched. And yet, I was always whisked away. My friends hand would find itself wrapped around my forearm and pull me into the fresh air.

And like that, clarity would appear like the breeze whisping its way around each square centimetre of exposed meat on my body. I would inhale and without knowing it, I could breathe again.

Where was I? Who was I? Who cares?

I didn’t know. I still don’t.

All I would know was that I was thankful for the interruption.

Around a corner we would go. Another line. Another sniff.

I’m leaning, leaning, leaning backwards into myself. Melting on a shoulder. Hands wondering which are not my own. Unfamiliar, clammy, rough and big. I let it happen. And then there’s my friend again – aggressiveness overtakes her. She pulls me away from the melting shoulder and I’m outside again.

We take another line.

See?

Didn’t I tell you?

Didn’t I tell you I was always whisked away?

Didn’t I?

Not anymore. Things change. People do the same. Moments like that evaporate into memories better forgotten. Happiness is futile so why distract it by stumbling in the dark of your own mind? Why absorb yourself in memories too diluted by the pain of the movement?

It’s better to forget it.

So why must I remember?